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Absolutely bangin' Jam Session?​


21st May 2023: Faultless performances, immaculate singing, creative forays through the post Bop genre, everyone young, talented, good looking, modest to a fault, no bum notes all arvo....2015 was a great year for jam sessions...and this was nothing like that, but, quite possibly, I digress.

Much to the chagrin of Madge's meek sidekick friend (*) last Sunday's Jam session was a relaxed affair: presided over by an avuncular Captain, in the mood to let things slide - and so they did.

Singers included Yuko, Jane, Deb, Kevin, Ruby and Ash - none of whom put much of a dent in the established standard of the day, although the pick of them had to be Jane ("Mean to Me" as a slow blues )

Guitarists included Mick the Pom with a fine stint on basso profundo, before Jamie took over, and some smooth solo work from Neville, Mike, and Roger. after their by now regular opening guitar only set.

Reads: Followed by clariphonists Jeff, Keef and the Captain, none of whom were given much leeway and consequently failed to set the room on fire (**). Which left Peter (trumpet) with the opportunity to shine, which he did...

Modest but elegant intellectuals: One pianist forgot to bring the cable that connects the speaker thingy to the doodad, (moi, possibly) and two pianists (Gentleman John and Malcolm) both pointed out that the thingy and the doodad were not talking to each other, or indeed the room as a whole. And then proceeded to sound quite good anyway - possibly due to a lack of competition.

Pick of the day. Ash put in a fine afternoon on drums, actually holding the whole thing together, solidly on the groove in an understated way. By the time the Good Captain, as a kindness to others, called it all quits, he was well knackered.

I checked on the way out - no-one died, nothing got broken, so no harm done, no musical peaks scaled, no memorable moments, jazz as an art form advanced not one inch. It was that sort of an afternoon.

(*) Hortense, who may have hovered in the background, knows better than to interrupt Madge once that robust Altona Westian gets going, and doesn't know what "chagrin" is although she thinks it might be something you polish your shoes with.

(**) Hortense, again. Avid readers may remember the night the Poisoned Parrot burnt to the ground after Miss H set the curtains on fire as a way of summoning the musclebound firey of her dreams to her rescue. Avid readers may, on the other hand, not.

See ya next week?


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